


Ashes

by byebyeskylark



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Gotham Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 06:05:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byebyeskylark/pseuds/byebyeskylark
Summary: The Joker's big finale is interrupted.





	Ashes

**Author's Note:**

> For Day 7 (Free Day) of the 2017 Batfam Halloween Content War

They were quickly closing in on him, but Bruce knew it was what the monster wanted. An audience, preferably captive.

Despite the circumstances he felt the thrill of the old days as he sped across the rooftops. Had to tell himself it was the suit’s mechanics and his body would punish him later for using it. Had to remember this was an exception to his retirement, not the rule.

How Joker managed to live this long enraged him. The fact that he seemed more or less as hale as ever just felt like par for the course. Of course the monster was undaunted in the face of age, while Bruce used a cane before even Alfred and hobbled around the Cave helping his brood train, or investigate, or run comms and coordinate missions.

Bruce jetted the distance between two roofs, catching the barest glimpse of Tim several blocks away, speeding on a parallel route. He was one of the only ones whose uniform included a cape anymore.

All the boys and Cassandra were out with him, all converging on the traveling point of chaos as it wound its way through Old Town, firing off exploding fun-size Halloween candies from some specially made canon.

“Drive him to the quarry,” came a voice over the comm line.

Barbara was rarely online anymore, either – only for special occasions, like this one – since she’d gotten tenure at Gotham State.

“Copy,” came terse replies from Dick, Tim, and Damian. Jason and Cassandra didn’t bother replying. Neither did Bruce.

Under the cowl he saw an overlay of Old Town and the points of light that were his children. Dick and Damian were closing in on the Joker’s left flank, pressing him further south, to the corner of the island that had been the city’s first limestone quarry, tiny by today’s standards and exhausted before the 18th century had even turned.

In a matter of minutes they were circling the park outside the tiny museum. About ten years before, an ambitious archeology professor and her undergrads had excavated the site of the entrance to the old quarry, unearthed when a twentieth century building had come down. The city and the university had brokered a deal to erect and maintain a small museum to house the artifacts that had been prised up from Gotham’s mud: pieces from Gotham’s earliest boom that were rarely uncovered due to the city having built, and built, and built on top of them.

“Your pack is closing in, eh, Batsy?” the Joker crowed from the center of the park, posed on a limestone bench, his pasty face vying against the pale stone.

Bruce almost flinched: he’d been thinking of wolves as he watched for the soft movement of shadows on the adjoining roofs and on the perimeter of the park. Checking that everyone was in place.

Joker was facing him. Bruce was used to this: the monster’s unerring ability to guess where he was, even before he’d revealed his location. Even when surrounded by other figures, two of whom were also wearing Batman’s uniform tonight.

“What’s the game, Joker?” Bruce knew he sounded tired. Weary and bored of the dance that didn’t seem to have an end. Probably should have made the effort to sound more engaged, to get Joker talking.

Joker clucked his tongue.

“Game? There’s no game, Bats. This is the end!” He flourished his hands as his charlie-horse of a smile grew bigger.

“Can’t you feel the final curtain about to descend?” Joker spun in a circle, gleefully addressing all of them.

Cassandra prowled out of the shadows first. She _was_ Batman, the one who answered the signal now. Her suit was a smaller version of Bruce’s: a simpler design with enhancement tech built in. He hoped it spared her the injuries he’d taken on over the years.

Joker had never liked her: couldn’t get a rise out of her. His face fell briefly before he pivoted to face a different corner of the park.

“Ring around the rosie,” he recited, rolling his Rs and opting for a soft delivery. No sing-song in his voice as he continued to spin,

“Pockets full of posie,” he greeted Red Robin and Bruce’s Batman as they stepped into the limited light of the grassy space.

“Ashes, ashes” for Dick in one of his old Bat suits, also brought out of retirement for this threat; and Damian, in his red and black Nightwing uniform.

“We all fall….down,” as his eyes landed on Red Hood. His yellowed teeth glinted as his mouth stretched wider.

Jason was curled in on himself, coiled and ready to spring beneath the armor and the featureless helmet. No stretch of years could exhaust his rage.

“I’d love to stay and play, kiddies, but I’ve got a big finale planned,” Joker’s voice dripped in that way that always made Bruce want to shower.

Joker hopped off the bench and tried to back further into the park. Their circle refused to budge though, and Cass was already diving for him, having seen his hand twitch towards his pocket.

But it was a ruse. If Cassandra never gave Joker the satisfaction of showing outrage or disgust, he was unfortunately one of the few people on the planet who could occasionally successfully feint in front of her.

Joker pressed some button in the pocket of his suit coat, while simultaneously swaying in an unexpected direction and falling into Jason right as the device he’d set off took their suits’ tech offline. Jason was blind as Joker twisted around him. They scrabbled at each other for a moment before Joker was, somehow, standing behind a kneeling Red Hood, with a gun pointed at his head.

“Well, I wish I had the time to savor this, just like last ti-”

Jason surged up and back, grabbing Joker’s wrist to keep the gun aimed at the ground ahead of them – it went off with an explosive bang – while also slamming his helmet into Joker’s jaw.

Time slowed to a crawl. Blood was pouring out of the ghastly smile, Bruce could see droplets of it hanging, suspended in midair, as the Joker and Jason fell backwards. They fell forever, as the ground behind them opened up.

Bruce had been in motion the second Joker had aimed himself at Jason. He had started to reach for a batarang the moment he saw the gun. Now he was barreling, full force, towards the enormous hole that had opened up in the ground, knowing that the suit’s jets were offline, knowing that if he couldn’t knock Jason to the other side, back to solid ground, that he would be lost forever.

Together he and Jason tumbled to a stop on the other side of the gaping black emptiness that had suddenly appeared in the manicured grass of the park. As Bruce lay with his arms still wrapped tight around Jason’s bulk, he realized the ringing in his ears was the last vestiges of the Joker’s scream.

For a moment no one moved. Bruce could see the shock etched into his children’s faces and posture, where they stood on the other side of the chasm. He could feel that Jason was breathing fast.

Finally, Jason stirred to reach up and remove his powered-down helmet one-handed, his other was still hanging onto Bruce’s arm where it crossed his chest. Sitting up, Bruce pulled Jason further from the edge of the pit.

“I’m sorry,” came a soft voice from the limestone bench. Tim and Dick, standing between it and the hole in the ground, whirled around.

A woman was sitting on it.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to reclaim him.”

The dim streetlights shone on her dark hair, her hands were folded demurely in her lap. Bruce heard the tones of wealth in her voice.

He still had one arm wrapped around Jason’s chest: even through the armor, he could feel Jason’s hand tighten around his forearm. And for a brief moment the woman’s shape and coloring changed, and Bruce understood. He knew he was seeing the figure as Jason saw her, and he felt a brief pang of jealous anger that this woman wasn’t some shadow of _his_ mother, but all their mothers. He was certain that Jason was looking at Catherine.

Bruce felt guilty for both wanting to deny his children this and for being unable to protect them from it.

“It takes a great deal of…focus. Or I would have put an end to him long ago.” Her blue eyes were looking at Bruce (weren’t they?).

“What are you?” Damian demanded, his voice so harsh it sounded like an accusation instead of a question.

“I am the city,” she said simply.

There was a long moment of silence. Bruce could just make out Dick’s jaw working under the cowl.

“How do you gather focus?” Tim asked quietly. Not, _Why do you look like Janet Drake?_ Tim wanted parameters before details. If she could reclaim the Joker, could she reclaim them, too?

But his mother just smiled at him in that distracted way she’d had.

“He won’t be back,” she looked around at them, “Not unless the city darkens again, in future generations.”

“Ashes to ashes,” she said, aiming a satisfied smile at the dark hole in the ground.

Tim felt the hair on his neck stand on end. His mother had never once sounded like that.

The woman blinked and looked up, smiling gently again. Cassandra shifted uncomfortably. She’d known from the beginning the woman wasn’t human; wasn’t Sandra. She looked too proud of her.

“Did you create him?” Bruce’s voice was so low it barely carried. Every one of his children froze briefly at the ice in his tone.

Not-Martha stopped smiling.

“Only inasmuch as I am, is, was created. I am the city, I am it’s people. When hope outweighs despair I, am bright. When hate and cruelty outweigh love, I am vicious.”

Her gaze came to rest on Jason and her expression flickered with grief before returning to its placid look.

“The city was…dark. We couldn’t stop his creation. I couldn’t place him in a life that might have leavened him, or else stopped him early.”

“But you could take him now?” Jason asked.

“I am different now, thanks to all of you.” Her smile was so brilliant, so much stronger than he could remember Catherine’s ever being, that his breath caught in his throat.

“What do you really look like?” Damian asked, only slightly less demanding than before.

The image of his mother, regal in emerald silk, lifted one eyebrow at him and waved an elegant hand dismissively at their surroundings. The buildings, the park, the rooftops.

“Why do you look like this to us?” Dick clarified, his voice full of unshed tears.

“I can’t control how you perceive me,” she tilted her head in a way Dick hadn’t remembered his mother doing until he saw it again, “Your perceptions are feeding off of each other though, or I wouldn’t be as a mother to each of you. Not a literal one, at any rate.”

Suddenly, Cass saw Barbara sitting before them, instead of Lady Shiva. A much more welcome illusion. She understood, however, why Bruce, Dick, and even Tim’s thoughts of their mothers might have set the tone for this encounter.

“I am sorry,” the City apologized again, “It is poor thanks for all you’ve done for me.”

Bruce wondered if she meant finally putting an end to the Joker or masquerading as their mothers. Both, maybe.

The moment she disappeared from the bench their comms and sensors came back online.

“-answer me, damn i- is that a _sinkhole_?” Barbara yelled in their ears as her feeds came back up. They all winced simultaneously. For a few beats they heard nothing but static.

“He’s down there, isn’t he?”

“He’s gone,” Jason told her. The finality of the words was clear.

“What made you…This area isn’t supposed to be unstable, they scanned it left, right and sideways,” Barbara said, referring to the archeologists.

“Why did you drive him here?”

Years of practice meant they knew when they were sharing looks, even through masks. Barbara, watching them through Cass’ cowl feed, knew that she was going to have to wait to get the story in person.

Leaving her question unanswered, Jason pulled away from Bruce, who let go reluctantly. He stood, careful of the abyss, and turned to reach a hand down to Bruce, helping him to his feet.

“I’m gonna need a ride.”

The implication was clear: _I am not going home alone after that shit._

“I’ve got a couple cars two blocks east of here,” Tim offered, leaning heavily on his staff.

Bruce and Jason skirted the pit, giving it a wide berth as they leaned a little on each other. For such a short confrontation it had been a drain. Bruce didn’t have to limp, thanks to the suit, but it was getting close to painful to walk normally.

Damian leaned a shoulder into Dick’s for a moment, knowing he’d be shaken by the sight of Mary Grayson. Dick shook his head slowly back and forth, like a dog shaking off water in slow motion, before looking up to smile at him. Cassandra and Tim fell into step beside them as they followed Jason and Bruce toward the park entrance.

Behind them earth and dull grass grew together again, with a sound like a sigh. There was no sign that the ground had ever been disturbed.


End file.
